


A Second Honor and Privilage

by katsu



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 08:11:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11824626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katsu/pseuds/katsu
Summary: Eli and Thrawn smut held together with a thin veneer of plot.





	A Second Honor and Privilage

**Author's Note:**

> Look, I basically just wanted to write Eli and Thrawn together, which is why I wrote [the first bit of this story](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11763969) and instead they insisted on having a bunch of manly feelings at each other. Thus, part two, in which there is smut.

The first thing Thrawn knew, after an interminable darkness, was pain. It clawed at his gut, his lungs, flowed into his ears. He hadn’t led a particularly unadventurous or easy life in his many years before joining the Imperial Navy, but he was certain this was the worst pain he’d felt.

His ribs seemed to crack apart with the effort of not-breathing as his hands slid along the smooth metal of a wall, angled impossibly inward. Decompression. Shrapnel. A ship twisting into death around him while an assassin’s knife lodged in one corner of his lung.

It really had been artfully done.

Only, he thought in fumbling staggers that were frustrating because he’d never felt so mentally sluggish in his life, this was going opposite to how it ought to be. First there was pain, then there was darkness. Yes, he was certain that was how it was supposed to go, death as the un-birth, the reverse of entering the world and yowling at the sky with clear eyes about the unfairness of being cold and wet and existing.

Oh, but there was the darkness again. That seemed right.

The second thing Thrawn knew, he opened his eyes—no, one eye, the other was annoyingly gummed shut—to see faces arrayed over him like the specters of judgmental ancestors, though none of them had the right sort of nose to be any relation to his. The glitter of red eyes in blue skin, the shine of smooth black hair under moving lights—were the lights moving, or was he moving under them, he couldn’t tell in the confused signals of his body—were alien in their comfort. He hadn’t seen anything familiar in so long that they’d become a foreign item rather than the expected wash of pale, human faces.

There was a gap in the Chiss faces. Not a gap, but a difference. Olive-brown skin, brown eyes, dark brown hair that didn’t lie at all flat.

“Eli,” Thrawn attempted, though he couldn’t do more than move his lips around a strangled hiss of air. Rank and family name would be better, but he’d no idea what Eli Vanto’s rank was now, and it had been many years since he’d been a commander in the Imperial Navy. It was an inconsequential detail when there were a lot of other questions to be asked, such as what the man was doing arrayed in Thrawn’s haunting, nonsensical, non-ancestors.

Darkness swept away his attempts to order Sy Bisti words alphabetically by grammatical form, which in that moment seemed utterly logical.

The third thing Thrawn knew, the world had finally settled down into a stable, sensical configuration. His mind still felt sluggish, chilled. But his thoughts ordered themselves appropriately, and his body seemed present and accounted for. It was a place to start.

He was in a medical recovery room, though it took longer for true recognition to set in because it was such a dislocation from his last firm memory of being on the bridge of the _Chimera_. Not because of the sort of room, though he’d escaped the ministrations of Imperial medicine for nearly his entire tenure in the navy, but because the internal design was again that mix of familiar and un. The dark walls were colored with subtle patterns humans couldn’t even see, curves and arches in all of the forms.

After being away from his own people for so long, it was a mental and emotional dislocation that he hoped he’d move past soon. He had felt foreign among the humans such that it had become a habit, perhaps.

And of course, the true question was _how_. It certainly hadn’t been his plans, any more than the _Chimera_ ’s fiery end. Obviously, the Chiss Ascendancy had rescued him, but there were a great many unknowns in the _how_ and _why_ of it.

The sound of movement, nothing stealthy but more a shifting of weight, drew Thrawn’s attention. It seemed even more disjointed, to see a human in the alien Chiss surroundings, and wearing a Chiss uniform with the rank insignia of _Admiral_ but—

Eli Vanto’s face hadn’t been a figment of misfiring neurons. Which logically led to a branching chain of conclusions. Thrawn really was back in Chiss territory, and Eli no doubt had something to do with it, and was likely the architect of his completely unexpected rescue. Eli glanced up from the data pad in his lap. _He smiles, his expression a mix of happiness and relief_.

“Your time in the Chiss Ascendancy seems to have agreed with you, Admiral Vanto,” Thrawn said. This time, his voice worked properly, even if it felt a little rough as it exited his throat.

 _Eli laughs, his teeth briefly showing_. “Better than your time in the Empire seems to have agreed with you, Grand Admiral Thrawn.”

“How long have you been watching for me?” Thrawn asked.

 _No reaction of surprise, only a pleased smile_. “About five months. I’ve been observing the Empire nearly full-time as the destabilization increased. The Aristocra decided against intervention.”

“On your advice?”

 _Eli nods his head_. “After the decision was made, I further advised that we monitor your position as best we could. Wouldn’t do to waste a valuable resource if we could possibly salvage your situation.” _His tone shifts toward bitter, the heat in his face rising: angry, but hiding it_.

Thrawn considered the recent movements in the nearby systems. “Ah. The smugglers.”

“Yes. They fished you from the wreckage. Though it wouldn’t have worked if you hadn’t gotten yourself into a partially sealed compartment.” _Eli raises his eyebrows, though the undercurrent of anger remains, its target subtly shifting_. “You never struck me as the sort to find going down with his ship romantic.”

Thrawn snorted faintly. “A leader is responsible—”

“For those under his authority,” Eli finished. _He closes his eyes briefly, more heat coming to his face_. “You also wrote that ‘if one is remembered by a friend, one is never truly gone.’”

“I recall that, yes.”

“You thought we wouldn’t meet again.” _His voice goes rough._ And then Eli leaned forward to place his hand on the back of Thrawn’s. His fingers, curving to grip lightly, looked pale in comparison to the dark blue skin, and felt comparatively warm.

“It seemed likely,” Thrawn said. It was a curious sensation, reminiscent of the last conversation they’d had before now, the one he’d assumed would be their last entirely.

“I’ve finally gotten to prove the Grand Admiral wrong on something,” Eli said. _He leans forward slightly, but stops. Holding back_.

“Given the circumstances, I don’t resent that in the slightest.” Being alive was, of course, always preferable to being dead. One couldn’t seek better tactical position when dead, Thrawn thought a bit muzzily. Curious at the sensation, he turned his hand in Eli’s so they met, palm to palm. _Eli’s eyes widen slightly, surprise. His pupils are dark and wide._

Attraction, Thrawn thought. He’d seen it in humans before, though not directed at him. Most in the Empire were far too xenophobic, and he’d never really found humans interesting in that way, himself. And before, he’d found Eli intellectually interesting, and then counted him a friend. There were so few people that he trusted with that depth, or felt emotional kinship to; he’d been surprised to find that with a human. But then, Eli Vanto had been a subordinate, in his command structure.

That was no longer the case. Another perceptual shift, in a day with many of them. Watching Eli’s face all the while, Thrawn drew the pad of his thumb slowly down the man’s first finger.

 _More heat in Eli’s face. His gaze moves down to look at their hands, then squarely back_. “You ought to get more rest,” he said. “You’re still not entirely healed.”

Thrawn was tired, or more properly physically fatigued with the demands of his body’s healing, but not ready to surrender to the dark of sleep yet. Ordered consciousness was proving more pleasant than usual, perhaps given an edge by the reminder of his mortality. He stroked Eli’s finger again, lightly, noting the changes in his skin, rougher over the knuckles, the slight tickle of fine hair. “Was it so bad?”

 _Eli shivers, a reaction both to the touch, and a darker bit of memory_. “Worse.”

Both of them were well aware of the risks of their chosen path. But it was one thing to view another warrior, an ally, and see that danger. Another when it was that rare treasure of a friend. Offering reassurance would have been foolish. At this moment, he was obviously here and still alive through Eli’s efforts. In the future, no promises could be made, and they both knew that as well.

Instead of wasting energy and breath that way, Thrawn turned his attention to Eli’s hand, as his to explore—or a minor conquest, perhaps. He lightly mapped the skin with the tips of his fingers, callous and creases and the smoother expanses between, reading a history of weapons use, of little accidents leaving tiny, imperfect scars. He traced the bones, the veins, both curious and marveling in a way that Eli still hadn’t moved except for small twitches of his fingers.

But he heard the man breathing, just a bit harder, and felt the faint tremor in his hand. _Wanting_. An emotional reaction to near loss was normal. But this…

This was a thing warm and encompassing. This made him consider what else might be done with hands, if in the future. Thrawn leaned back against the soft bed beneath him again, eyes slipping half shut. He saw Eli’s face now. _Flaring with heat_. _He watches with wide eyes gone dark_.

“You will visit tomorrow,” Thrawn said.

“I have every other day while you slept.”

“I’d rather while I was awake.”

 _Eli’s tongue darts to lick his lips. Slowly, reluctance obvious, he draws his hand away_. “I would, too.”

#

Somehow, Eli made it to his living quarters without embarrassing himself in front of the hospital staff. They’d already been giving him round after round of odd looks when he’d shown up every day to observe the various stages of Thrawn’s medical treatment. It was apparently something the Chiss simply didn’t do.

And while he normally tried to blend in socially better than Thrawn ever had—and normally with reasonable success—Eli hadn’t cared.

In this case, he did, considering just what a waking encounter with Thrawn had somehow done to him. He went out of his way to avoid getting within meters of anyone, the collar of his coat pulled up to hide his face until he had his door shut safely behind him.

Then he gave in and leaned against the wall in the doorway, closing his eyes. The skin of his right hand still echoed with that careful, inch-by-inch examination under Thrawn’s fingers, which had left him half-erect just sitting in the damn chair. He’d been lucky that he hadn’t been expected to move before the Grand Admiral fell asleep.

Thrawn was important to him, as a friend. Deeply important. Eli hadn’t expected this sort of reaction in himself. But he’d never approached Thrawn from any sort of equal footing before, let alone touched him so familiarly.

Let alone been touched back. There’d been no mistaking that, for all it had only been hand to hand. He’d felt every tiny movement down to the soles of his feet, pinned as he’d been by Thrawn’s glowing red eyes.

Eli slid his hand down over the crotch of his trousers. A light touch, and he was hard again, like the erection had been lurking just below the surface. He’d been feeling the ache the short walk out of the hospital, and the slightly longer journey home. He fumbled the fasteners open and palmed the shaft of his cock. His breath hissed out as he imagined what it might feel like with blue fingers cool over his own, going more erect with each pass of his hand.

It should have been unthinkable. Thrawn, as his superior officer, had been untouchable, in another realm entirely. But not anymore. And for all he’d felt Thrawn staring into him, reading him, knowing on some level what that touch had done to him, he’d made his own observations. Thrawn was curious, and he wasn’t the sort to play games without a strategy.

His cock was rock hard now, and he gave himself over to fantasy as he stroked, base to tip. Chiss were anatomically similar to humans; he could imagine what might be under the uniform or hospital shift easily enough. He wondered what Thrawn’s cock would taste like, imagining the feeling of those strong, graceful fingers curling in his hair as Eli curled his tongue. Where else those fingers might wander.

He didn’t try to draw things out as he moved his hand efficiently. The important part was in his mind, and if he let it linger too long, his imagination would fail. But he envisioned looking up, seeing Thrawn’s red eyes as mere slits, but gaze still on him—

Eli shuddered as he came into his hand, breathing hard. He pressed his back against the wall to keep himself steady. Eyes still closed, he fished a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the cum away from his palm.

Too bad thoughts weren’t so easy to wipe away. But he found he didn’t want to let them go, as complicated and messy as it was to think about, without the strident physical need in the way. He would see which direction things might develop, waiting for a moment ripe with opportunity… and there he was, thinking like Thrawn had taught him. Eli’s lips curved in a smile. This wasn’t a battle in simulation or reality, but something equally important and far more personal. He’d see the lay of the ground soon enough. And in the meantime, the far more important thing was Thrawn’s recovery.

Eli tossed his handkerchief in the laundry and washed his hands, then put in an audio-only message to Fleet Admiral Ar’alani. He felt calmer now, surveying the first moves on the battlefield, but he still didn’t trust his face to her scrutiny. She was almost as good as Thrawn when it came to reading him.

“He’s awake,” Eli began, as Ar’alani opened the channel. This wouldn’t surprise her, since she’d been regularly receiving medical reports. “And while he was tired, our initial conversation was promising. He sounds like himself.”

After the condition Thrawn had been in upon recovery, this was no small accomplishment. Eli really didn’t want to think about that too hard.

“Good,” Ar’alani responded calmly. “We shall see if he still thinks like himself as well.”

Looking down at his right hand, which felt like it ought to bear some sort of brand, Eli felt uncertain. The curiosity, the intensity was still there. But he’d also never seen this sort of interest from the Admiral, if he was being logical. He couldn’t let his own sudden wants—who knew, maybe it was all the shock of seeing his dearest friend in such a state—cloud his judgment. He’d been trained better than this. “I will report back.”

#

Eli was testing him. Thrawn knew this, and Eli knew that he knew this, and so words were not necessary on that count. The tests were in the form of games, seemingly plucked at random from some unknown cabinet. One day, Sabacc. The next, Moebius. Then Quest. Then Rrrrt. Then Chess, three days running. Games that required varying levels of skill, implemented varying levels of chance.

And Eli had gotten quite good at most of them, in the intervening years. Enough to be a challenge, particularly in the more chance-influenced games.

What he was testing for was similarly evident. Eli, and no doubt through him the admirals of the Defense Fleet, wanted to know if Thrawn’s mind had suffered any sort of damage. That alone spoke volumes about the condition he must have been in before. A head injury, likely, or perhaps long-term oxygen deprivation.

This was reinforced by the daily course of examinations and physical therapies. All his limbs were accounted for, but there must have been nerve damage, artificially repaired. That was the best explanation for both exercises and the transient numbness and sluggishness he experienced at first. Thrawn dedicated himself to his exercises with pitiless determination.

Ultimately, the games were trivial, and Thrawn knew that Eli knew this as well. The far more interesting game to be had was Eli himself, Thrawn had decided by the second day. Eli stayed at a careful distance now, with an equally careful bland expression ruined entirely by the rush of heat to his face at odd intervals as one of them contemplated a move. Unraveling that motivation and engineering a mutual victory was a thought experiment to occupy Thrawn’s mind while he waited for Eli to reset a board or shuffle a card deck.

It was a way to stave off the ever-growing undercurrent of frustration at the general situation. He wouldn’t be seeing anyone from the Defense Fleet until they were entirely satisfied he was ready to serve. That, he could not control; his mental prowess had little say on the integration of neural grafts.

Thus on the eighth day, Eli sat back, looking over the chess board with its half-finished strategy. “I know what you’re doing.” _The corner of his eyes crinkle: amusement_.

“Oh?”

“Winning or losing every game by a particular number of points.” That was what Eli’s best talent had always been in, drawing forth patterns from numbers. He plucked one of the chess pieces from the board and held it up. “I ought to kick over your pattern now.”

“Destruction for its own sake?” It felt easier to joke, in his own understated way, when they addressed each other as equals over the game board. Very deliberately, Thrawn reached out to close his fingers around Eli’s wrist. _The muscles of Eli’s forearm jump as if electrified. Heat blooms in his face, one breath coming shallow before control reasserts._ He plucked the piece away with his other hand, but did not let go.

 _Eli licks his lips_ , _nervous_. “You taught me better than to walk into a trap.”

“Why do you think that is the trap?” He slid his thumb up to press firmly into Eli’s palm, to watch his fingers curl.

“Is this?” Eli’s gaze flicked to their hands, the intent clear.

“Perhaps I seek to release you from a trap of your own devising,” Thrawn observed mildly.

 _Eli laughs, the sound unsteady. More nerves. Edging toward deliberate misunderstanding_. “You never did care much about propriety.”

“On the contrary, I care about it deeply, when it is warranted. You’re not under my command. This—” he squeezed Eli’s wrist lightly, though there was a slight tremor in his muscles introduced by still-healing nerves “—is not untoward.”

 _Eli glances toward the door, firmly shut, but not the look of a cornered animal—affirming privacy, instead_. With his other hand, he moved the game board aside, steady enough that the pieces were undisturbed. And then with great deliberation, he rose from his seat and slid a knee onto the narrow bed, which had been temporarily raised up to act as a chair.

It put them abruptly much closer. Thrawn felt the warmth radiating from Eli with great satisfaction. Even more as Eli, his gaze raised almost defiantly, shifted to straddle Thrawn’s thighs. He leaned up on his knees, which put them at close to the same height. His breath, washing faintly across Thrawn’s chin, smelled faintly of kaff and spice bread.

That was where Eli stopped, one eyebrow tilting up slightly: _Your move_.

Thrawn had noticed a change in his former aide, since they’d become reacquainted. He was still very much the Eli he’d known for years and come to think of as his dearest friend, there was no doubt about that. But gone was all hesitation, and the thread of self-doubt that he’d only just begun to unravel before leaving for the Ascendancy.

Well, it made sense that after so many years with the Defense Fleet and a no doubt well-earned rank of Admiral, a human might learn the confidence of a Chiss. It was almost unbearably attractive.

The question was truly what move to make; there were many to choose from, and all had a high probability of a result he liked. But Thrawn could also admit to himself that it had been a very long time since he’d been in a situation like this, not since before he’d left the Ascendancy. It wasn’t so much a lack of confidence as trying to remember a skill long disused.

He released Eli’s wrist and dropped his hands to rest lightly on the man’s thighs. Eli sucked in a breath, and Thrawn felt the brief clench of lean muscle there though the slick, heavy fabric of his uniform trousers. As Thrawn ran his thumb lightly up one line of that muscle, Eli swayed slightly, then rested his hands on Thrawn’s shoulders to steady himself. His gaze, warm and brown and unmistakably human, never wavered.

And through the thin fabric of the hospital shirt, Thrawn could feel every detail of his hands in heat.

He found the waistband of the trousers, and was rewarded by another hitch in Eli’s breath. But rather than being so direct, he busied himself undoing the hidden fasteners of Eli’s jacket, up to the tighter buttons just under his chin. There, Eli had to help him; he wasn’t quite up to the delicate movements, frustratingly. But then Thrawn pushed the jacket, heavy with its rank insignia, back to reveal a cream-colored undershirt. That he recognized as one of the few relics of Eli’s old imperial uniform.

Eli’s lips quirked. “Keep forgetting to sort out my laundry.”

That seemed… uncharacteristic. The man had always been well-organized. Thrawn considered this as Eli obligingly drew his arms from the jacket sleeves, discarding it behind him. “Preparation for fleet action?”

“Friend in hospital.”

“Ah.” Thrawn tugged Eli’s undershirt up enough to untuck it and slip his hands underneath. Eli grabbed his shoulders again as he began to explore that much more interesting expanse, smooth skin and curly, slightly coarse hair in a smooth pattern, a narrow strip on the belly and spread out across his chest.

 _Eli’s eyes slip half shut with pleasure, fingers faintly flexing_. _Heat in his face, in his groin, in his hands_. Satisfying so far, settling into a pleasant ache of arousal as Thrawn mapped out the faint presence of Eli’s ribs. His fingers skated over one of Eli’s nipples and the man gasped, the flesh puckering to hardness.

“Yes or no?” Thrawn asked.

“Yes,” Eli said, voice a dropping a little lower.

He rolled his thumb over Eli’s nipple and felt an answering shudder run through him. Eli pulled his hand away just long enough to scrabble off his shirt. That was more invitation than Thrawn could ignore, and he leaned forward to stroke with the tip of his tongue. He felt fingers clutch at the back of his head. Rather than complain at the liberty—he liked it too much—he cupped the smooth curve of Eli’s ass with his other hand, listening to a gasp become a moan as he slid his fingers along the crack.

“Do you have something against being undressed?” Eli asked, a breathless moment later.

“No.”

Eli started tugging the light shirt off, and Thrawn gave over to him with a light rake of his teeth over Eli’s chest.

It felt even better to meet skin with skin, his cool blue against Eli’s warm brown, which felt like he had a star captive under his ribs. Thrawn leaned back, drawing Eli to rest against him. He’d missed this almost as much as the more basic pleasure, the feeling of skin against skin. Eli’s hands moved over his shoulders, his sides.

He also felt the rigid line in Eli’s trousers, and felt it press against his own erection. They both breathed out into that sliver of space between them. Eli’s eyes were all Thrawn could see, dark and wide. He brushed his fingers up Eli’s spine and felt it curve to roll and thrust, grinding them together.

They shared a moan and a faint hiss. He felt the shudder of Eli’s heart beating against his chest, counterpoint to another wash of pleasure as they moved against each other. So close, he smelled the soap Eli had used, minerals and sweet berries, the faint tang of sweat. All it really took was pressure, heat, arousal. But he wanted slightly more than that, rutting and spending into his own trousers.

Thrawn nudged them apart, hands going to the top of Eli’s trousers. The man followed instantly, helping him part buttons and catches, then tugged the band of Thrawn’s light trousers down in turn. Thrawn slid his fingers through the fabric, finding still hotter skin, smooth and soft and so hard beneath. He pushed the underwear down to free Eli’s cock bare seconds before Eli had gotten to his.

They didn’t look so different in anything but color, Eli’s much warmer. Same shape, approximately similar size, same configuration of veins and skin. Milky moisture collected at the hot tip of Eli’s cock, and the man gasped as Thrawn smoothed a thumb over it, spreading for lubrication. He seemed almost lost before mirroring the motion, the pleasure singing down through Thrawn’s legs and up into his spine.

They rested their cocks together, the organs moving faintly against each other, and stroked them with hands not quite joined. Thrawn rested his other hand on the back of Eli’s head briefly, moving to rest their foreheads against each other, nose tips touching.

Then there was nothing but quickening breath, the sound of flesh sliding on flesh in faint slaps, tiny moans that Eli caught in the back of his throat. Thrawn stroked his back, not with an idea to comfort—none was needed, obviously—but to feel his skin, the smooth and rough of it, the delicious imperfections that he would remind himself of later when he remembered this. Then to urge him on, as that pleasure wound more tightly, then motion of first Eli’s palm, then his in aching contrast. The hard line of Eli’s cock, the faint roll of their hips together built and built, until one glorious moment when there was no thought, only pleasure.

Thrawn held hard to Eli’s back as he rode the shuddering pleasure of his orgasm, cum spilling out over their hands. Eli took over from his momentarily distracted grip and stroked himself three times more before he came as well.

They leaned against each other, foreheads slightly damp, breath mixing. Thrawn idly traced the curve of Eli’s spine again and felt another echo of that first shudder. Eli laughed softly. “Never would have imagined this.”

“Not until now.” The situation had been such that the possibility hadn’t even been in mind.

“How long’s it been for you? With someone else.”

Thrawn raised an eyebrow. “Did you ever observe me to have much of a social life?”

“Not really. But you never slept as much as I did.”

Chiss didn’t need to sleep as much as humans. “I got a great deal of reading done.”

Eli sighed across his shoulder. “Same. About the length of time, not the reading.”

“Really.” While he was a keen observer, Thrawn had never really turned his attention to that. It hadn’t been any of his concern, so long as Eli had been functioning well in his role.

Eli pushed away with a low grumble, leaving just long enough to fetch two hand towels. He offered one two Thrawn, then proceeded to clean himself up with the other. “Really. I had a couple of… friends at Myomar, but as soon as you had me transferred…” He shook his head and relieved Thrawn of the soiled towel.

Once it was disposed of, rather than return to his former chair, he got back onto the bed. It took a bit of maneuvering, their legs pleasantly tangled, before they were both comfortable. Thrawn had Eli’s head rested against his shoulder. With their shirts still abandoned, there was a pleasing line of contact between them.

“I cannot claim to be sorry,” Thrawn said, picking the thread of conversation back up.

“I wouldn’t expect you to be. And I’m not either. Even if at the time I didn’t like you very much.” Eli’s hand rested on Thrawn’s hip, heavy and warm.

“And you’ve made no such friends here?” Not really his concern either, but he was curious. From what he’d seen, Eli had adapted quite well to all other aspects of life; he seemed very comfortable in his own skin.

Eli snorted. “I figured it out early on, you realize.”

“What?”

“You’re pretty unusual for a Chiss.”

Thrawn considered this, smoothing his thumb slowly over Eli’s shoulder. He’d taken well to the military, had his few clashes with the Aristocra because of his unorthodoxy, and flown through it all with his way smoothed by results. Socially, he just hadn’t been interested in the game; it wasn’t the sort that held any kind of intellectual fulfillment for him. “Do you think so?”

“I don’t think anyone else I’ve met yet in the Ascendancy that could have made it so many years, surrounded by humans.”

“Ah.” The cultures were very different in their own way. He’d also been more willing to swallow his pride in the service of a greater strategy. “I could say the same of you.”

“It hasn’t been that difficult.”

He had first offered this opportunity to Nightswan, not necessarily because he was necessarily the superior candidate, but because Nightswan’s death had been a foreseeable waste. But this was what he’d intended for Eli from fairly early on. Thrawn allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction. “You only prove I chose correctly.”

#

After another week, the medical technicians were at last satisfied with the full integration and healing, as well as Thrawn’s adjustment to the injuries. His only souvenir of an assassination that could only be considered “attempted” by the barest of margins was a limp that wouldn’t leave his left leg. Something he could train and compensate for, eventually. And it wasn’t as if he’d been a front-line soldier at all in recent memory.

It just meant, Thrawn thought with sourness he kept carefully to himself, that the next time he needed some sort of physical combat demonstration made, he’d have to cue Eli to do it. Not such a hardship as that.

With the medical approval at last came the return of his uniform, the spare black of the Defense Fleet and the insignia of a fleet admiral. Thrawn dressed himself carefully as Eli puttered around the room, gathering up the stray objects that had taken residence over the last two weeks of having no home but this: data readers, a collection of reader cards that Eli had rightly thought he would enjoy, a scattering of game boards, a few holographic pieces of art that made a somewhat haphazard collection—chosen for having caught Eli’s eye as interesting rather than for any utility. The human expression, _it’s the thought that counts_ went double for that, Thrawn thought with a purely inward smile.

“I was told you would both still be here,” a familiar voice, Ar’alani, said from the doorway.

Thrawn pivoted carefully to keep the balance in his bad leg and favored her with a polite nod. “Your habit of good timing continues unabated, admiral.”

Eli set down the small carry sack he’d been packing and offered his superior a smart salute, hand crossed over his chest. “Five more minutes and I think we’d have been gone.” His Chiss, Thrawn noticed, was absolutely perfect. Out of well-worn habit, they’d been speaking Imperial to each other for the most part before now.

Of course, Ar’alani’s presence wasn’t a coincidence, and Thrawn already knew that as well. He regarded her, waiting. Since she’d come here, she must want to speak to them both, and at the same time. The more interesting question was why. He simply waited; Ar’alani had always been happy to discard even the spare niceties of Chiss society whenever possible.

“There’s been movement on the frontier, near the dark nebula,” she said. Her red eyes glittered appreciatively at Thrawn.

 _Eli draws himself up a bit straighter, but gives no sign of anything but attentiveness_. “How bad?”

Bad, Thrawn thought. Otherwise she wouldn’t be here.

“We’re mobilizing Sea Dragon, Ice Fisher, Lamenter, and Iron Star battle groups,” she said.

“What time?” Eli said. Ice Fisher was, Thrawn recalled, the battle group under his direction.

“Three hours.”

 _Eli glances at the carry sack, then up, brows drawn pensively_. “I’m afraid I’ll need to take my leave then, sir.” His tone broadened the word to include both Ar’alani and Thrawn.

“I have another matter for you first,” Ar’alani said.

“Of course.”

“Fleet Admiral Mitth’raw’nuruodo will be joining me on the _Ran’dalranda’s Sword_. There ought to be just enough time for him to stop by his quarters and pack before departure. If you will not find such a task beneath you.”

And there was her sense of humor. At the very least, she knew Eli had been here every day, on extended leave that she had granted herself. Eli seemed to take the point as well. “If he isn’t tired of my company at this point.”

“Good. I shall see you both in orbit.” Ar’alani turned on her heel and walked away, just as silently as she’d come.

#

“Bad luck,” Eli observed. He went back to shoving the last few data cards into the bag. “We’d better hurry.” He tried to bit back the surge of anger at that last bit of news; it wasn’t Thrawn’s problem. He wasn’t even certain if it was his own problem.

“I don’t mind,” Thrawn said mildly.

“Well, I do. They’ve already put you through how many tests, and that hasn’t been enough for her?” Which was half the reason he was angry, really. But not all of it. He hoped throwing that to Thrawn would be enough, though the man had always read him uncannily well.

Thrawn laughed. “Caution is warranted, when you’ll be putting a fleet in someone’s hands.” He watched Eli cinch the sack closed. “Or have I missed something of the situation?”

Eli blew out a breath. “The _Sword_ isn’t her ship, sir.” He stopped, laughed sharply, and continued. They weren’t even up in orbit and he was already on the old habits. Though he’d known this—whatever it was—couldn’t really last. “I don’t suppose I’ve mentioned it, but she normally travels with Ice Fisher.”

Eli had told Thrawn that before, and the man drew the fact up with his usual effortless ease. How anyone could still think he might be having neural problems was beyond Eli. “ _Witch of Glaciers_ is her flagship, then.” That was the carrier for Eli’s battle group.

“Normally. Come on. I know where your new quarters are.” Eli waited for Thrawn to rest his hand lightly on his shoulder as they left the room. While he had a walking stick given to him by the medical techs for ordinary use, he seemed to prefer this.

“It might be best for us to not be on the same ship,” Thrawn observed.

“You think—no, well, maybe a little.” It had been inevitable, Eli told himself. And it probably was for the best, distractions being what they were. He turned his attention back to the point he'd been making. “The _Sword_ is a new carrier. A new _class_ of carrier. There’s been a lot of maneuvering about the new battle group… and the fleet they’re going to build around it.”

“Ah.”

Ar’alani as a commander had always been more interested in the political game than Thrawn, not that it was difficult, Eli had noticed. But she also had Thrawn’s absolute drive to build the best possible shield for the Ascendancy—and as a side-effect, the rest of the galaxy. She had just laid her bet on Thrawn, and there wasn’t anyone else Eli would rather put his money on either. And, he was sure, Thrawn would love it.

It shouldn’t bother him so much; Eli was certain of that. He’d gone years flying free of Thrawn’s comfortable shadow. He hadn’t been an officer’s aide for most of them. But now that he had the man back, he realized just how much he missed him. Just how eager he was to show Thrawn how much he’d grown in the intervening time.

It was best for them to be separated. But he didn’t relish the thought of it one bit. Fleets sometimes went years without seeing each other. The other option put him under Thrawn’s command, and while he had no doubt they would work well together, that would be… improper.

Eli’s mind continued to run in these circles as they exited the hospital, boarded a personal hopper, and went the short distance to Thrawn’s assigned building. He already knew where the rooms were; Ar’alani, obviously amused, had given him leave to deal with basic furnishings and the like since he knew Thrawn better than any of them at this point.

Two steps in, with the door sliding closed behind them, his internal back and forth about the sudden, impending separation was abruptly derailed by strong hands gripping his shoulders and shoving him against the wall. And then Thrawn’s mouth on his, inescapable and demanding. Eli didn’t so much open his lips as have his mouth plundered.

He hadn’t actually kissed Thrawn before now, the small part of his mind still capable of rational thought noted. Just not something either of them had ever gotten around to, since to Eli’s mind it toed the line to romantic and they certainly weren’t that. The rest of him was busy clutching at the front of Thrawn’s jacket and making little whimpering sounds against his mouth. Thrawn’s tongue slid against his, traced a line behind his teeth, and Eli was two-thirds of the way to hard. He transferred one hand to Thrawn’s hip, to grind them together, and noted with satisfaction that the excitement was mutual.

As abruptly as he’d begun, Thrawn drew back and Eli tried to get himself back in order, starting with remembering how to breathe properly.

“Do I have your attention?” Thrawn asked, low amusement in his voice.

“Did I miss something you said?” Eli managed. But he didn’t wish to speak about this, he decided. It was complicated, and very stupid, and he hadn’t sorted out his own thoughts at all. He slid his hand around to the front of Thrawn’s trousers, stroking the hard line he found there through the fabric. Thrawn’s eyes narrowed to glowing red slits in response.

“Distraction,” Thrawn said.

Eli didn’t bother to argue, since it was true. And Thrawn didn’t protest as Eli wrapped his fingers around his cock through that fabric. “We’ve only got a few minutes before we need to move on.” He felt Thrawn’s cock twitch against his palm.

“And—”

Eli dropped to his knees. He gripped Thrawn’s hips tight, and leaned in to run his mouth over Thrawn’s still-contained cock. Because, he realized, this was goodbye again. It might be more years, and it might be never, with one of them atoms in the dark between stars. He scraped his teeth over the muffled shape, safe under its layers of cloth. One of Thrawn’s hands came down to tangle in the back of his hair.

Eli unfastened Thrawn’s trousers and pushed them open enough to allow his cock to spring free. He sucked the tip between his lips, tasted the salt and musk of it that were uniquely Thrawn, and then swallowed him slowly to the hilt, like he’d thought about doing so many days ago.

Thrawn moaned, his other hand coming to the back of Eli’s head, fingers curling in his hair. He pulled back just enough to avoid gagging, then tugged at Thrawn's hips with his hands, encouraging. The man gave a little rolling thrust, into Eli’s mouth, his fingers clenching.

It wasn’t the act of sucking Thrawn’s cock that felt good, really, but knowing what pleasure he was giving the man. Listening to his breath, the few low moans like gifts. Eli felt Thrawn’s hips flex under his fingers and sucked harder. He ran his tongue on the vein that ran the length of Thrawn’s cock as the admiral slowly fucked his mouth, hard enough to show a crack in his normal deliberation. Eli moved with the rhythm of is, one hand coming around to cradle Thrawn’s balls, tugging lightly.

He listened to Thrawn’s breathing, the speed of it, and felt the tension wind tighter through his lean muscles. He knew Thrawn was about to cum before the man said, voice husky, “This is your warning.” Eli’s only response was to take him deep again as he went rigid with the shock of orgasm, his hands tangled almost painfully in Eli’s curls. He swallowed the taste Thrawn’s cum down, heavy and faintly sweet, and finally drew back.

Thrawn leaned against the wall with both hands, steadying himself. His face tilted down toward Eli, eyes a barest glitter of red. With great deliberation, Eli, finally brought a hand to his own aching cock, slipping his trousers open to stroke it. He felt strangely exposed and even more aroused at the intensity Thrawn began watching his hand move, then. He came, still kneeling on the floor, his gaze locked with Thrawn’s.

“Eli…” Thrawn said, his voice a rumble barely above a whisper. There was too much that could be hiding in that tone.

Eli slid along the wall to gain a bit of space and stood. “We’d better get cleaned up fast. Still need to stop at my quarters and then get to the shuttle port.” He made himself turn away, heading for the spare bathroom to fetch towels like he had so many times before.

#

Eli stood on the bridge of the _Witch of Glaciers_ , his home for the last three years, far more than his planetside quarters had ever been. With one ear, he listened to Commander Ni’deltha read out a new battle line for their fighter squadrons. His main attention was on the tactical display, noting as the battle played out.

They’d have to come up with a name for these new invaders with their dark ships diving in and out of the nebula, since they hadn’t seemed at all inclined to share one of their own. A new threat to add to the list the Ascendancy was already concerned about, and with the Empire freshly collapsed.

If they survived this battle. The enemy was in a seething mass of small ships, a little too large to be fighters, and the largest of which might have been corvettes. The designation was entirely off of tonnage, and a best guess at the weapons. The ships moved with the chaotic motion of a flock of birds at times, in complete precision at others, streaming across the absolute black of the dark nebula.

Lamenter battle group had already lost one ship, the escort frigate _In’dara’s Might_ exploding in a silent plume of superheated gas, and had a second escort disabled; Iron Star’s carrier had taken heavy damage and been ordered to withdraw.

“Corvette is flickering again,” Ni’deltha noted. “ _Mitar’s Heart_ taking heavy damage.”

And these enemies didn’t seem to stay in one place to be shot. Some sort of sensor deflection affect, if a very sophisticated one. Hyperdrive couldn’t function on hops this short or in quarters so close. Or maybe…

“Corvette behind _Mitar’s Heart_ , sir,” Ni’deltha said.

“Vector change for _Fire Flood_ ,” Eli said. “Give them screening fire. Escorts into defensive position. Watch each other’s afts.” The keyed over to the command channel. “Admiral Ar’alani.”

“Go ahead.” Chiss didn’t bother with holographic projections in these situations; if it couldn’t be said with simple voice, it wasn’t worth wasting anyone’s time over.

“You’ve noticed the movement artifacts?”

“Yes.”

Eli keyed a repeat of what the _Witch of Glaciers_ had just observed. “Have the fleet send me sensor dumps on all similar artifacts. Just the raw data.” Which was going to be a lot of data. He didn’t have the attention span to do this and direct his battle group. “Can you take over command of Ice Fisher while I do my analysis?”

There was a pause, then the brief tone that indicated a battle group broadcast. “Fleet Admiral Mitth’raw’nuruodo in command of Ice Fisher.” The channel dropped back to command only. “Be swift, Admiral Vanto.”

Eli retreated into his ready room. Rather than the art displays that had always filled Thrawn’s room, every available surface was covered with data screens. The two of them had always worked on very different planes. As the raw data streamed in from the other ships, Eli threw it out onto the different screens and started scanning for commonalities.

He needed to hurry. His battle group, and possibly even the entire fleet, was depending on him figuring this part of the puzzle out. He also couldn’t think about hurrying, or he’d snarl himself into knots. The focus had to be on the numbers, the patterns…

Eli wasn’t truly conscious of the amount of time that passed, as he moved back and forth between displays, tapping in processing coefficients, searching. The ship rocked, lights flickering as it took an external bombardment. Eli kept his focus tight; Thrawn was in charge of his battle group, and there weren’t any better hands to be in. Sweat slicked down Eli’s hair when he saw it—resonances, very specific ones. Not quite hyperdrive, but something akin to it… something that still would respond to gravity if applied in a very specific way.

He had the presence of mind to not run out of the room—admirals didn’t run, it upset the other officers too much—and headed to the tac display again. The change in the combat positioning of the fleet was dizzying, and for a brief second distracted him as he tried to unravel it, but he needed to focus. He keyed command again. “Sending results now, Admiral Ar’alani,” he said, talking right over someone else, he couldn’t be bothered to identify who.

A pause, as the data was sent and his conclusions absorbed. “Gravitational trap,” Ar’alani said.

“A very specific one.” Eli brushed a drop of sweat away from his eyes. “Can the _Sword_ provide the tractor beam resonance necessary?”

Another pause for consultation. “Yes. The fleet will stand by.”

Relief flowed through him. The only thing worse than no solution at all was a solution that could not be implemented. “Do you wish me to resume command of Ice Fisher?”

“When you are fully ready, Admiral Vanto.” This time it was Thrawn’s voice, cool and distant.

This was a signal for him to try to figure out what had shifted in the fleet strategy while he’d been running numbers. Eli turned his attention back to the tactics display, unsure of what exactly he was seeing. It wasn’t anything defensive he’d ever seen, a moving half ring with fighter squadrons darting almost haphazardly through it that…

…drew the enemy in. It was pure Thrawn. Make a welcoming gap to invite attack, and cut off the hand that reaches for it.

“I’ve got it,” Eli said.

“Ice Fisher is yours, Admiral Vanto.”

The carrier rocked again under Eli’s feet, a volley from a cloud of enemy fighters skipping by. Eli corrected three ship vectors to seal the gap, and redirected his own squadrons. At this point, it was a matter of hanging on until there were fleet orders; what he’d seen couldn’t be accomplished by only a few ships.

“Power fluctuation in the main reactor,” the engineering lieutenant reported.

“How bad?” Ni’deltha asked.

“Not unrecoverable yet,” the lieutenant answered.

Ni’deltha glanced at Eli; he saw it from the corner of his eye. “We’ll be needed,” he said. “You’re going to have to nurse it along.”

The orders came in about fifteen minutes later, which were some of the longest in Eli’s life. The fleet had lost another corvette, and the _Witch of Glaciers_ engineer was muttering an endless string of profanity under her breath that Eli pretended not to notice. Then Thrawn’s voice came, calm as ever. “New vectors, all ships. Instructions follow for the engineers.”

Eli passed the orders through, noting the shape of it. The engineering lieutenant cursed again. “There’s a good chance of reactor breach, with this kind of load.”

“It won’t work without us,” Eli said, feeling suddenly very calm himself. “So you will have to make certain that doesn’t happen.”

The flight pattern was wide, terrifyingly full of gaps for enemy fire, but that was the only way it would work. The best they could do was sweep the gaps with fighters. At Thrawn’s signal, a set of carefully chosen fighters had their pilots ditch into space, marginally safer than what was about to happen. Every carrier and escort tagged their designated ship with a tractor beam, swinging it along a precise arc, which meant they sparked through the _Sword_ ’s focused ion beam at a particular frequency. The beam went from tight to wide, painting down the flickering shapes in a long sweep.

The enemy ships, which had been buzzing like blood fleas over a fresh carcass, suddenly stopped, drifting aimlessly.

“Beam off,” Ni’deltha shouted as a warning klaxon started up.

All internal systems on the _Witch of Glaciers_ failed. The lights went off, gravity flickering sickeningly. Eli clutched the edge of the tactics table so he didn’t fall when auxiliary cut in at half gravity. All he cared about was the display, and the viewscreen out.

One of the enemy fighters exploded in a plume of orange-green. Then another, and another, and another, a wave tracking back through the fleet. Unlucky Chiss fighters scrambled to gain safe distance from the carnage.

“Status, Admiral Vanto,” Ar’alani asked.

Eli watched as the wave of fire grew and flowed back toward the nebula. “I didn’t think it would do _that_ ,” he said. Thankfully, the rest of the command channel had the grace to pretend he hadn’t spoken at all.

#

With the _Witch of Glaciers_ ’ main reactor uncertain, the ship had to be evacuated of anyone not involved in repairs. One of the problems the Empire had always had, in Thrawn’s opinion, was its lack of care for individual life. Young officers and the non-commissioned had their important place in every fleet, and if they were treated as expendable, there would be no new leaders. It was not a small task, for something the size of a carrier, with _Burning Maiden_ of Iron Star group also partially disabled.

Over the course of a day, the crew was distributed over the remaining escort ships and carriers, with the bulk ending up on _Ran’dalranda’s Sword_.

One of whom, by design, was the battle group’s admiral. It only made sense, really, since Eli would be more useful on the _Sword_ as they did their battle post mortem. And indeed, he spent hours closeted with Thrawn, Ar’alani and others of the command staff, refining what he’d discovered in the sensor data and running endless simulations.

For his part, Thrawn had the best pilots of the carrier go out—though not too far—and look for wreckage of the enemy ships. Anything they could find at all would be invaluable, material to go with observation. He was confident this had been only one foray, just as he was confident that Ar’alani would be throwing her considerable influence behind him when the command of the new Expeditionary Fleet was decided. The Ascendancy had changed its stance on preemptive strikes, it seemed.

And now they were on the slow return to dock, the three remaining carriers towing _Witch of Glaciers_ between them. Thrawn had all the time in the world to go through the recovered wreckage, one bit at a time, and glean what he could. Even the design of ships had an art to it, he’d long since learned.

“Going to bother sleeping tonight?” Eli asked, at the doorway to the conference room Thrawn had designated as his temporary office.

“Later,” Thrawn said, turning a scrap of metal plate over in his hands. He could see the bare hints of script etched into the side.

“Brought you some moss tea,” Eli said. A click as he set the cup on the table. “Knocked off a bit early tonight, myself. I need a little time to let my subconscious turn the numbers over.”

“It’s one of your best tricks.” Thrawn turned at last to look at Eli.

 _His smile is tilted, wry. A light flush of heat to his cheeks_. “Goodnight, then, sir.”

The words felt oddly final in their tone. But he didn’t want Eli to go. Thrawn had long ago grown accustomed to a certain sort of loneliness, but he had never felt truly _alone_ until he had sent Eli to the Chiss Ascendancy. He hadn’t realized until then how emotionally he had leaned on the man as his friend. He had survived and succeeded in Eli’s absence, of course, but he had felt a small hollow in those victories. And now Eli had proven the cure for another sort of loneliness, the simple mortal need of flesh resting on flesh.

Eli still hadn’t moved, still meeting his eyes, though his gaze had become more speculative. “Must you go?” Thrawn asked.

Eli took one step to the door to engage the privacy security lock on it, then closed the distance to Thrawn. He reached out to rest one hand on Thrawn’s chest. Even muffled with layers of cloth, Thrawn felt the warmth of him. He drew his hand slowly down to Thrawn’s belly, just above the waist of his trousers. Just that simple sensation made his stomach go tight with desire, the sensation echoing in his groin.

There, Eli stopped. “Doesn’t really fit with propriety.” He started to lift his hand away; Thrawn caught his wrist to stop him.

“Will you expect special treatment?”

 _Eli’s eyes narrow. He’s insulted_. “Of course not.”

“Will I hesitate?”

“Only you can answer that.”

He was right, in that regard. But Thrawn hadn’t found room for hesitation, when he’d been directing the fleet, even knowing that _Witch of Glaciers_ had a potentially serious reactor problem. He didn’t doubt himself. And if he did give an order that took Eli to his death, would he be able to forgive himself?

They were both warriors. They knew the price of what they did. He would mourn his friend, but he would mourn Eli no matter the circumstances. Better, he thought, to enjoy what time they might make for themselves in the spaces between battles.

Eli waited still, simply watching him. “There is no one I trust more,” Thrawn said. He spread his fingers over Eli’s, relishing that point of contact. “And I see no impropriety.”

It was Eli who moved in first to kiss, some inner aggression showing through. He pushed Thrawn back, their lips tight together, until the backs of his legs hit the conference table. Faintly amused, he sat, and Eli followed, straddling him.

They both worked at the fasteners of Eli’s jacket; it slid to the floor with a soft murmur a moment later. Thrawn's jacket followed quickly. Eli broke away only long enough to skin out of his undershirt and toss that aside. Then his mouth was back on Thrawn’s, hot and eager, tongue moving restlessly. Thrawn slid his hands along Eli’s back, feeling him arch appreciatively into the touch, then down to grip his ass firmly. Eli moaned into his mouth, hips rolling to grind into his thickening cock.

Considering the possibilities—which he’d thought about and prepared for some time ago, before the fleet action had interrupted things—Thrawn ran his fingers along the seam in Eli’s trousers, hard enough to be felt. Eli responded by leaning back into the touch, his teeth momentarily sharp on Thrawn’s lower lip.

“Yes or no?” Thrawn asked.

“Yes,” Eli said. “Fingers, cock, anything you want.”

Thrawn acknowledged that sort of open-ended offer as a measure of trust as well. But rather than rush ahead, he still explored the brown skin of Eli’s neck with his lips, scraped his teeth over the man’s collarbone, plied his nipple with tongue and fingers. Eli cupped the back of Thrawn’s head with one hand, the other coming down to press awkwardly on the hard line of his cock through his trousers.

Thrawn nudged Eli back with a hand on his hip until the man reluctantly drew away to stand. “Trousers off,” Thrawn said, sliding to his feet. He fished a small tube of lubricant from his pocket while Eli complied. “Hands on the table.”

He made a delicious sight, naked and half bent over the conference table, the lean muscles of his arms standing out. Thrawn moved in to caress the curve of Eli’s ass, enjoying the anticipation of what they would shortly do. He spread a bit of lubricant on his fingers and teased at Eli’s hole. Eli wiggled his ass in response, pushing back eagerly into the pressure; he hissed out a long sigh as Thrawn’s finger sank into him.

Well, he had said he’d had friends in Myomar, even if no one recent. He was so eager, the temptation to just take him entirely now was immense, but Eli had offered him great deal of trust for a reason. Thrawn worked a second finger into him, and a third, until he was slick and ready. He saw Eli sneak a hand off the table, almost guiltily, to stroke his own cock a few times.

Thrawn unfastened his trousers to let his own aching erection free. He slicked it down with another bit of lubricant and rested the tip against Eli’s hole. Whatever his plan had been, Eli had his own ideas; the man pushed back against him, breath coming out in a long moan as Thrawn’s cock slipped into that tight heat. Thrawn grabbed Eli’s hips trying for some semblance of control as Eli took him fully and ground back against him.

They breathed together, almost the same sound of satisfaction. Thrawn drew back for a long, slow thrust that ended with Eli’s fingers scrabbling at the table top, a needy whimper coming from his throat. He pressed back tight again, like he would eliminate all space between them.

Thrawn rolled his hips again, a bit faster, and together they found a rhythm, an angle that worked well. Eli went from moaning to a stream of utterly filthy curses in a quiet but near constant stream as Thrawn thrust into him. Thrawn tried to focus beyond the shocks of pleasure each time Eli went tight, tried to have the presence of mind to reach a hand around and stroke the man’s cock as Eli moaned.

The situation was impossible to draw out, with Eli so hot around his cock, so eager and responsive. He grabbed Eli’s hips again and drew him in tight, shuddering at the wave of pleasure that rolled through him. He was dimly aware as Eli drew a hand from the table again to bring himself off, his breath hard and fast as Thrawn leaned against his back.

Then together, the sprawled out on the conference table, mercifully one of the few clear spots on it. Thrawn slid an arm around Eli and drew him in tight to his side. He felt the echo of the man’s heartbeat, the faint stickiness of sweat.

Thrawn slowly ran his fingers over Eli’s chest. Skin to skin, the intimacy he’d most missed. “I intend to take Ice Fisher into my new fleet. Will you hesitate?”

“No more than I did before.” Eli smoothed his hand over Thrawn’s forearm.

An almost painfully honest answer; whatever their friendship had become, it was no more or less of an issue. And Thrawn had found it to be only boon, before. “Then it will be my honor and privilege to have you at my side again.”


End file.
